


Well Met on All Hallow's Eve

by ap_aelfwine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossing House Lines, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, Hogwarts First Year, Multi, Pre-Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 08:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4599006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ap_aelfwine/pseuds/ap_aelfwine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Halloween Feast dissolves in chaos, Ron insists Hermione will surely be fine. Harry goes to the rescue alone, but soon finds a better partner for his mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well Met on All Hallow's Eve

**Author's Note:**

> The characters and situations of the Harry Potter series are copyright J.K. Rowling. They may not be used or reproduced commercially without permission. The use of these characters and situations is not to be construed as challenge to said copyright. They are merely borrowed for this work of non-commercial fanfiction, from which the author derives no financial benefit.  
> ***  
> Poly warning, het warning, femslash warning, Halloween warning, U13/PG-13 level violence (dead troll) warning, non-explicit (they're eleven!) warning, kissing warning, three-way kissing warning, _truly_ supportive Hogwarts Staff warning, George Alec Effinger (RIP) reference warning, yours truly warning.  
>  ***  
> I'm a great believer in conservation, but I really don't think it's reasonable to allow a creature that looks at two lovely young witches as a potential meal to live. Also, I see Harry Potter as someone who will do anything to protect his girls, even at eleven years of age. If that bothers you, you probably would prefer to read another fic.

“Look, mate, there's no point in worrying. I'm sure the bookworm's going to be just fine. She probably went to the Library after she got done whinging to herself and forgot it was time for the feast,” Ron said. “Now let's get moving before Percy has a cow.”

Harry was already moving. He'd felt an odd sense of kinship for Hermione Granger, even when he'd been nodding along as his first friend called her a nightmare. He felt ashamed for that. But right now wasn't the time for thinking about what he'd done wrong, but for doing his best to make up for it. He'd find her and make sure she got safely back to Gryffindor Tower, and once that was done Ron, Percy, and McGonagall could tell him off as much as they wanted to. As soon as he got out of the Great Hall, he broke into a run.

Minutes later, he was outside the girls' toilets where Parvati had said Hermione was crying. And now he felt a curious sense of despair. Only girls were allowed in there. It couldn't be right for a boy to even walk up to the door. And what if Hermione didn't answer? Should he go inside to be sure she was okay? But he'd come this far, and there was nothing else he could do. He knocked at the door. “Hermione!”

“Go away!”

“Oi, Potter! What's going on here?” The speaker was a black-haired girl wearing a Slytherin tie. She wasn't only taller than Harry, as a fair number of girls at Hogwarts were, but taller than nearly all of the boys in their year. Millicent Bulstrode, that was her name. Ron and the other Gryffindor boys often said she was monstrously huge and speculated about whether the giant blood was on her father's side or her mother's, especially when she was nearby and none of the staff were listening, but she didn't seem to notice that people were saying nasty things about her in the same way that Hermione did, or maybe she was just better at hiding her feelings. _She was the first one the Sorting Hat didn't_ _place_ _right away,_ he thought. It had been at least a minute that she'd sat there. Most of the other Slytherins had been like Draco Malfoy, with the Hat calling out the name of their House as soon as it settled on their heads.Remembering how long he'd sat there talking with the Hat, he'd wondered if being differentmight havemade Bulstrode feel out of place in her House, and he'd felt vaguely sympathetic until his first lesson with Professor Snape, after which, he thought, he'd stopped feeling sympathy for any Slytherin.

“There's a troll on the loose, and I'm trying to get Hermione to come back to the Tower.”

Bulstrode shook her head. “Well, then, let's us go in and talk her out of there. Come along, Potter.” She grabbed Harry's arm, and before he properly knew what was happening both of them were inside the girls' lavatory.

“What are we doing in here?”

“We're here to talk your Housemate into heading for safetybefore the troll shows up, Potter. What else would we do? This doesn't look like a sweet shop or a good place for a game of Gobstones, and we're all three of us a little too young for snogging, right?”

He didn't even know what to say to that. A tiny irrelevant part of his mind noted that the girls' toilets didn't look very different to the boys' toilets, except for the fact that there were only cubicles and no urinals. Bulstrode, still holding his arm, marched him over to the only one with its door closed. “Look, Granger, it's me, Millicent Bulstrode. Your golden boy here came to rescue you, but he started to lose his nerve, so I gave him a little push. If we're lucky, you two can get back to your Tower and I can get back to the Dungeons before anybody notices we're out of place.”

“I... I don't want to. Nobody likes me here!” She broke into sobs. Harry didn't know what one was meant to do for a crying girl. Aunt Petunia usually hugged Dudley and then gave him a box of sweets or another expensive toy to break, but he hadn't any expensive toys or sweets and he didn't know if girls even liked to be hugged, not to mention he'd never hugged anyone before and he'd no very clear idea of how one was meant to go about it. Besides, Hermione was in the toilet cubicle, which meant that if he were to hug her she'd either have to come out of it or else he'd have to go in. It was bad enough that Bulstrode had dragged him in here to begin with, but surely it was very wrong indeed for a boy to be in the lavatory when there was a girl in one of the cubicles, much less for him to go inside it with her.

Bulstrode shook her head. “Please, Granger. Come you out of there. There's a troll in the Castle, and we shouldn't be out in the corridors, or anywhere else that's not one of the Houses.”

“Why bother? It's just as Weasley said, I'm a nightmare and I've no friends here at all, any more than I had any at primary school. The troll might as well have me for his dinner. At least that way I'd be some use to _somebody._ ”

A wave of self-revulsion washed through Harry. Ron had bullied Hermione, in just the way that Dudley bullied people. He hadn't hit her, but it was still bullying. And Harry, who should have known better, had stood there with Ron, just the way that Piers Polkiss always stood with Dudley. Sure, Harry hadn't actually said anything to add to what Ron was saying, in the way Piers always did, but that didn't excuse him.“Her... Hermione. I'm sorry. Ron was being an awful git to you. And I was an awfulgit for not telling him off. I'm really sorry. I know just saying I am isn't enough, but I'll try my best to make up for it.”

“Hear that, Granger? The boy says he's sorry, without prompting, and he's only eleven. My mum says most of them can't do that when they're twenty-two. Just think what he'll be like when you've had a little time to work with him. I'd be a traitor to all womankind if I let you waste an opportunity like this.”

“Oh. Err...”

“Look, Granger, are you decent? I'm giving you to the count of five, and then I'm coming in, so you'd better be. You've nothing I've not seen before, but you might give Potter a heart attack. He's shown himself to be trainable, so it would be a terrible shame for us witches if we lost him. One... Two... Three...”

“All right.” The cubicle door opened, and Harry looked away, blushing.

Bulstrode gave his arm another little squeeze. “Come on, Potter, don't look away from her. She's got all her clothes on, so you're not winning points for gallantry or anything. And you don't want her to think you're saying she's ugly, do you?”

“Um... no.” He looked at Hermione. She was blushing just as much as he was. And... she was pretty. He'd never thought about that before, not with her or with any other girl, but she was.

She'd been crying. He knew that, obviously, but seeing the tears streaking her cheeks and the way her face was all puffy, and red from more than just embarrassment, made it sink in. He felt deeply ashamed. _Is there anything I can do to make it up to her?_ He wanted to hug her, but he wasn't sure she'd want to be hugged, especially by a boy. Instead, he fumbled in his pocket. At least his handkerchief was clean. “Um, here, Hermione.”

She blinked, twice, and he was afraid maybe he'd violated some other unwritten law of how girls and boys were meant to interact with each other. Then she smiled, and if anybody had wanted to knock Harry over with a feather they would have had absolutely no trouble at all doing it. She wasn't just pretty, she was beautiful.He'd never understood the difference before. “Th... thank you, Harry.” She reached out to take the handkerchief, but somehow she ended up grasping his hand instead. She didn't let go.

Bulstrode was beaming. Harry realised that she was also beautiful. _Is this what it means to grow up and start noticing girls?_ “There, that's more like it. Now, let's scarper. You two can have your proper romantic moment back in your Tower, and I'll go back to the Dungeon and practise my terrifying glower on Malfoy and his two Lumps That Speak, Or At Least Grunt.”

There was a terrible smell. A few minutes earlier the room had smelt of nothing much, other than a faint tang of water and soap, just as the boys' toilets did. Had something gone wrong with the plumbing, so that sewage was forcing its way up through a U-bend? But if that was the case, why was there a hint of rotting meat as well? And what was that crashing noise? He realised it wasn't coming from within the room, but from outside in the corridor.

Bulstrode's face went pale. “Merlin's bollocks. It's the troll.”

Hermione squeaked. “None of my books had any spells for stopping trolls. Does either of you know one?”

“I wish I did. I'm told they're resistant to magic and the best thing for them is not being where they can get to you, followed by an explosive charge, followed by a large-bore rifle. And here I am without so much as a firecracker or a peashooter. I don't suppose either of you has got a .600 Nitro-Express or a stick of dynamite handy?”

“Bloody hell,” Harry said. Those were strong words that were supposed to be good for saying when things were very dire. He knew there was a stronger word, one that started with an F, but he had never practised saying it. Then again, here were girls here. He didn't think you were really meant to say those words in front of girls. Maybe it was just as well he'd never practised that other word. “Err, sorry.”

“Don't be, Potter. 'Bloody hell' is bloody right. Anybody know a locking charm? Mum wouldn't teach us any because her sister put one on the toilet for a prank when they were kids and their brother had a pee in the sink cos he was desperate, and Auntie wouldn't teach us, either, on account of it wasn't that funny a joke.”

“'Collo... colloportus. But I've never really tried it out before.”

“Good girl, Granger! Do you remember the wand movement?”

“Y... Yes. Yes, I do. It's like this.” Hermione drew her wand. On the first try her hand was a little shaky, but by the second widdershins swish—sunwise circle—sunwise swish she was rock solid. Out in the corridor, the smashing sounds were coming nearer. “Here goes. Colloportus!” The door made a little squishing noise.

“Well done! You have that, Potter?”

“I think so.” His first try failed. He looked at Hermione, and at Millicent. This was for them, so it had to work. “Colloportus!” It squished.

“Good man! That's taken. My turn.” Millicent was almost chewing on the tip of her tongue, which might have messed up her pronunciation. In any case, the spell took her a second try as well, which made Harry feel slightly better. _And when did I start thinking of her as Millicent?_

The troll was battering at the door. “It must smell us,” Millicent said. “I'm told their sense of smell isn't as good as a dog's, but it's much better than our own. I hope the spells will hold.”

Hermione smiled, which surprised Harry. “I do as well, but just in case, let's get behind those cubicles.”

Millicent patted her shoulder, and then she patted Harry's. “Aye. Might buy us a little time, if worse comes to worse. But I'm sure the Staff are out there clearing the corridors. Dumbledore's powerful as anything, and I'm told all the Heads are solid fighters. They'll curse the beast in the back as soon as they see it.” The door shook. “All right, let's give it another dose, and then we'll go behind the cubicles, how's that? Colloportus!”

Both Millicent and Harry got the locking charm on the first go, this time. Hermione fired off her own, and then she grabbed each of them by the sleeve. “Come on, you two, let's get over there in the corner.”

They huddled together. Harry found that he had an arm about each girl, which he imagined would probably have been more comforting for them if they hadn't both been taller than him—Hermione by an inch or two, Millicent by a head—but they didn't seem to mind. There were more crashing noises at the door.

He was surprised to realise that Millicent was shaking, maybe even more than he and Hermione were. “Ah... Potter... that is, Harry... it's just... I've never been kissed, and if... well, it would be really really rotten to die and not to even know what kissing a boy feels like, so... could we kiss you, please?”

He didn't even know what to say. Kissing a girl was one of those things that he'd never even thought about very much. Last year at Saint Grogory's School a new girl had tried to talk with him and Dudley had chased her away, saying she should thank him for it because Harry was a freak who'd probably kiss her and give her a disease, but Madam Pomfrey had said Harry didn't have any diseases and he trusted Madam Pomfrey a lot more than he'd ever trusted Dudley. “Um... sure. If you want to.” He hoped he wasn't offending Hermione, even though he wasn't completely sure why kissing Millicent might offend her. It wasn't as if Hermione was his girlfriend, after all. Or at least he didn't think she was, although it was true that he didn't know what people actually did in order to become boyfriend and girlfriend. _Well, if I did it by coming in here, that might make Millicent my girlfriend as well. Is that_ _even_ _possible?_

“Thank you, Harry. Now, you go first, Hermione.”

He didn't know what to say. And it seemed clear that neither did Hermione. But then there was another crash at the door. Her eyes were bright with an emotion he couldn't name. “Thank you, Millicent,” she said, and she pressed her face to his. Some sliver of instinct made him pucker up his lips. She puckered her lips as well and... they were kissing. It felt good. More than good, really. For an instant, he forgot the stink of the troll and the way it was bashing at the door and the fact that they might well all three be dead in a few minutes' time. He even forgot his own shame at not standing up for Hermione as he should have done, as he would do from now on, at least if there were a from now on.

At last, their lips parted. “Thank you,” he said, feeling as if he should say something, at least.

“Thank you, Harry. That was... it was very fine. Now kiss our Millicent, please.”

The tall girl was looking down at him, smiling, her face shining with a mixture of emotions that Harry wasn't even sure he'd known existed a few minutes earlier. She puckered her lips and pressed them against his, and they were kissing. It was somehow different to kissing Hermione, but it was just as wonderful. He was glad to have found out about kissing before he died, because Millicent was right. It would have been rotten to die without having ever done this.

“Thank you, Harry. That was brilliant.”

“Thank you, Millicent.”

There was more crashing. The troll wasn't through yet, Harry judged, but he imagined it wouldn't take long. He hugged the girls, hoping it might make them feel better, at least a little bit.

“Hermione? Could I... could I kiss you?” Millicent's breath stirred his hair. It tickled, slightly. He liked the feeling, even though in the past he'd only ever known tickling as another painful thing that Dudley had done to torture him when they were younger, before his cousin decided that hitting was more manly and more fun.

There was a long pause, broken only by the noise of the troll trying to batter through the door, and Harry wondered if there was something odd about Millicent's request. It made sense to him, since he'd kissed both girls, but he didn't know very much about kissing. It was possible that Hermione, who seemed to have read every book he'd ever heard of and many more he hadn't, had read a book that laid out whatever rules there were for kissing. Was it possible that one of the rules might be that girls shouldn't kiss each other? That didn't seem fair. Kissing girls, as Harry had just discovered, was a wonderful thing. It would be a terrible pity if the pleasure of kissing girls were a pleasure that was denied to other girls.

“Yes. I... I'd like that. Please, Millicent.” Seeing his companions kiss each other was as nice as kissing them himself.

“Thank you,” Hermione murmured when they were done. “It's nice to feel as if I have friends for a few minutes.”

“Hermione,” Millicent said, “we _are_ friends. Surely you don't think I'd be waiting to be killed by a troll with just any girl and just any boy? Surely you don't think I'd kiss just any boy and girl?”

Harry squeezed them both. “We're friends, Hermione. Now and always.”

Hermione's eyes were full of tears again. “Thank you. I... Thank you so much. For everything. My friends.”

“We'll be together when this is over,” Harry said. “I promise.”

“We will,” Millicent said. “One way or another, we will be. This life or the next.” There was a terrible crash from the doorway, louder than the previous ones.

Hermione giggled. “If... if there's an afterlife, I really hope there's kissing there, because I don't think there's anything like enough time left to kiss both of you as much as I'd like to kiss you.”

Millicent nuzzled her. “Wouldn't be much of a heaven if there weren't kissing. Any road, as long as I'm with both of you even the other place would be heaven enough.” She leant down, and Harry and Hermione craned their necks up, and they managed to press their three sets of lips together at once. It was more touching mouths than it was kissing, and Harry was worried that his glasses might scratch one of the girls on the cheek or even poke her in the eye, but it felt very sweet. _I'm sorry Millicent and Hermione have to die as well, but I always_ _did_ _th_ _ink_ _there was a_ _fair_ _chance_ _that sooner or later Dudley or Uncle Vernon might_ _hit me too hard or throw something heavy that I couldn't dodge_ _and kill me. I'm glad I at least got to come to Hogwarts and find out_ _how_ _beautiful_ _girls are and how brilliant kissing is_ _first._

There was another almighty crash. Harry reckoned the troll was just about through. He gave the girls another squeeze.

He felt that he should at least face death as it came for them, even if he couldn't do anything to save his girls. He opened his eyes and stood with Hermione in his left arm and Millicent in his right. The door crashed once more, and somehow he knew what was left of it had fallen flat on the tiled floor. The troll's footsteps were heavy, even louder than the tread of Harry's six foot three and twenty stone uncle on the stairs above his cupboard. He saw something swinging through the air, something that had to be a tree trunk. How had a tree grown inside Hogwarts, and why was it falling now? Then he realised the trunk was a club in the hands of a vaguely man-shaped creature that, judging by the head and shoulders which were all of it he could see, made Uncle Vernon look like an undernourished infant and the biggest gorilla at the zoo look like a toddler. With a single blow, the troll smashed the farthest cubicle into splinters. Bits of tile went flying when the end of the club crashed into the floor; some of them knocked plaster off the ceiling.

The troll raised its club again. It wouldn't be long, now. Maybe another cubicle or two would go first, or maybe the beast would realise that it could get at its prey directly if it only left the cubicles alone for a moment and came walking round them, but there was virtually no chance that the Staff would be able to do anything in time, even if they were out in the corridor.

Something inside Harry woke. He might not have cared very much for his own life, since he had nobody but a family in Little Whinging who hated him, a Wizarding World that had called him their hero since he was in nappies but left him alone in a cupboard for nearly ten years, and a so-called best mate who was actually a rather nasty sort of bully who despised smart pretty girls like Hermione and Millicent. But there were two other lives at stake here. They'd hugged him, and kissed him, and called him their friend, in spite of how he'd been following Ron Weasley about like a lost puppy.

Harry Potter knew that there was something called love. He didn't know for sure if this warm, tingling feeling he felt now for Hermione Granger and Millicent Bulstrode was love or not, but he knew he'd never felt anything finer in all his life. He squeezed them softly, one more time, and said “I love you. Remember me.” He didn't entirely know why he said those words, but he knew they were the right ones.

And then he let go of the two girls who were his true best friends, for now and forever. He hoped they'd stay behind him, far enough back that a single swipe of the club wouldn't take all three of them, that they'd let him delay the troll with his death in hopes that somebody would come in time to save their own lives. But they stayed at his shoulders, and he knew he couldn't stop them.

“All for one, one for all,” Hermione murmured.

“Aye,” Millicent said.

He could see the troll clearly, now, a massive warty grey-skinned thing wearing a crude loincloth made of grimy rags. Somehow the fact that it wore clothing of a sort made Harry hate it even more. A ferocious deadly animal like a bear or a tiger would be one thing; he'd want to kill it in order to stop it hurting Hermione and Millicent, but he didn't think he'd feel any real hatred. But when he realised that the troll was something like a person, he fell into a red rage. How dared it think wonderful kind beautiful girls were prey to be torn apart and eaten? Most especially two wonderful kind beautiful girls who were _his?_ He drew his wand and pointed it. “Die, you sodding bastard! Bang! Bang! Bang!”

He had no notion where the spell—no, it wasn't even a proper spell, just stupid silly _words—_ came from. His best hope had been to cast the _Leviosa_ charm they'd been working on that afternoon, in hopes that he might be able to lift the creature an inch or two and slow it down, or maybe that he could levitate the club out of its hands. Even as he acted, he felt ashamed at his own foolishness in pointing a wand and pretending it was a gun, of all things, like a little boy playing with a stick. But something like a bright red flower blossomed on the troll's midsection, and again on its chest, and a third time between its two tiny red eyes, just above its ugly lump of a nose and its horrible toothy grin.

The troll stood still for one dreadful gut-churning moment, just long enough for Harry to be certain he'd failed and they were all lost. And then it fell. The entire room seemed to shake as the massive body hit the floor. It didn't move again. It still smelled foul, but now there was a funny metallic tang accompanying the original stench as a pool of red began to seep out from under the motionless carcass. A wet spot appeared on the troll's loincloth, and the sewer stink intensified, although it didn't completely overwhelm the metallic scent.

“Harry! You did it! I don't know what you did, but you did it and it worked!” Millicent picked him up in her arms and hugged him. Then she put him down, grabbed Hermione, and squeezed them both together. “We're alive, my loves! We're alive! The troll's dead, and we're alive!”

Hermione was beaming. “Yes, we are. You did it, Harry. Thank you, my love. My loves!”

“You saved our lives, Harry. And do you know what that means? You're stuck with us, forever and ever.” Millicent glanced at Hermione, and before he knew what was happening, the brown-haired girl had plucked his glasses off his face. He barely had time to notice that the girls were every bit as pretty when they were kind of blurry before two sets of lips met his. He'd never really imagined that three people could want to kiss each other all at once, let alone that it was physically possible. Then again, when he'd sat down at the Halloween Feast, less than an hour earlier, he'd not known that Hermione was beautiful and so was Millicent, that kissing was wonderful, or that Ron was a prat who would put a girl who'd only been trying to help him into deadly danger and then go off to Gryffindor Tower without even trying to warn her. Even after they finished the kiss, they remained in their huddle.

“I suppose we'd better leave,” Hermione whispered at last. “I wish... I do wish we weren't in different Houses. Or that we could get Sorted again, maybe into a fifth House that would just be for the three of us?”

“I've heard rumours that there are hidden rooms all over the castle,” Millicent said. “Maybe we could find one and move in together?”

Harry had a feeling he was meant to be intimidated at the thought of sharing a room with two girls; after all, it would mean their beds being as close to his as Ron's and Neville's beds were in the Gryffindor boys' dorm, and maybe they'd even share a bathroom. But all he could think right now was how very nice it would be to sleep so near his best friends. _Do girls snore? Even if they do, it would be a nice kind of snoring, I'm sure. I just hope I don't snore, because I wouldn't want to keep them up._ “Yeah. If we could, that would be brilliant.”

Hermione stroked his hair. “In any case, we'll meet up as soon as we can in the morning, won't we?”

“Of course we will,” Harry said. “I'll meet you in the Common Room as soon as you want to come down from your dorm, and we'll go to the Great Hall to meet Millicent, how does that sound?”

“I'd like that. I know Ron's your best mate, Harry, and you'll still want to have your fun with the lads, but I'll be grateful for whatever time you can spare for us.”

“Ron nearly got the three of us killed, Hermione. Neville, Séamus and Dean are all right, but they're none of them you or Millicent. I'd rather spend my time with my _real_ best friends, and they're both right here.”

“Oh, Harry...” She was so close that he could see her eyes clearly even without his glasses. She was crying again. So was Millicent.

“I'm sorry...”

“Don't be, Harry. These are happy tears.”

He'd never heard of happy tears before. Apparently being best friends with Millicent and Hermione meant he was going to be learning all sorts of new things. He was looking forward to every one.

“My goodness! What happened here?” Professor McGonagall was stood in the doorway. Not that he could see her as more than a blur, but he recognised her voice. _Is it still called a doorway after the door's been battered down,_ _or is it just a hole in the wall now_ _?_ Part of Harry wanted to laugh, but the rest of him was far too concerned that Millicent and Hermione might get into trouble for being in the toilets with a boy.

He wondered where his glasses had got to, but before he could do more than wonder, Millicent had put them back on his face. “Thanks, love.” He wondered if he should have called her that when the Transfiguration mistress was in the room, but Millicent smiled, so it was apparently okay. McGonagall's face was grim, but he didn't think she was angry, at least not yet. “Hermione didn't know there was a troll, Professor...” he trailed off as Dumbledore, Flitwick, Snape, and Ron followed McGonagall into the room.

Hermione's face went still when she saw Ron. “I, err, I'd read about them, and... I thought I could handle it myself.”

Harry didn't know how to react. Did she want to protect Ron? Why? Was she afraid he'd be angry if she didn't? Or that Harry would be unhappy if his supposed best mate got into trouble? Despite the other people in the room, he and the girls hadn't let go of each other, and now he hugged Hermione a little closer. Millicent stroked her hair.

Hermione leant into them both, and it seemed to Harry as if she was somehow drawing strength from their bodies, which was wonderful. He'd never felt so needed in all his life. “Actually, Professor, that's not really true. I was crying in the toilet cubicle, because of what Ron Weasley said about me at the end of our Transfiguration lesson today. Harry and Millicent came to find me, and as they were trying to convince me of the danger we heard the troll in the corridor. Millicent pulled Harry into the lavatory, and we fortified the door with two _Colloportus_ charms each. I... I thought we were going to die when the troll battered down the door, but Harry cast a spell I'd never heard of before and stopped it.” Harry was glad she'd left out the part about kissing. It wasn't that he was ashamed of kissing the two nicest and most beautiful girls at Hogwarts, but it seemed too private to talk about, especially with Ron and Snape in the room.

“Yes, Professor McGonagall,” Millicent said. “That's exactly what happened. If it weren't for Harry, Hermione and I would both be dead.”

“If I'd been by myself, the troll would probably have killed me. But I had to protect Hermione and Millicent, so I pointed my wand and, well, I didn't know what I was doing, and I'm still not sure what spell I used, but it stopped the troll.” _I don't_ think _Ron could point his wand at someone like Malfoy, say “bang,” and kill him, but I don't want to_ _tell him and then_ _find out I'm wrong about it. Not even Malfoy deserves to be_ _shot dead_ _in a corridor_ _just for being a ponce._

McGonagall's face lit with pride. “You cast the _Colloportus_? All three of you? That's Third Year magic. Well done. And it has the look of a strong casting, one that would be a credit to any Seventh Year. The doorframe's been beaten out of the wall, but the door itself held to the end.”

“Hermione read about it, and she taught us both to cast it,” Millicent said. “She's brilliant, isn't she?”

Hermione was blushing, but she looked very happy at the same time. “You and Harry are the ones who picked it up after watching me try it for the very first time.” And now Millicent was blushing as well. Harry wished he had a camera and could take a picture of his girls looking like that, because it was an amazing sight, the sort of thing he'd love to hang on the wall or put in an album where he could look at it every day.

With a flick of his wand and an incantation so quiet that Harry couldn't make it out, Professor Flitwick rotated the troll's carcass so he could look at its back, which had much bigger and messier holes than its front did. “Very interesting, Mister Potter. It looks to me as if you've combined the sort of instinctive defensive reaction we see in many cases of accidental magic with deliberate use of a wand in order to reproduce the effects of a powerful firearm. I compliment your effort in defence of your friends, and I'd appreciate a chance to discuss it with all three of you at a later date. Many useful spells were inspired by cases of accidental magic, and in any event it's possible that you have a career in spell development ahead of you.” McGonagall and, much to Harry's surprise, Snape were nodding. Ron simply looked confused, as if everyone had suddenly started speaking in a foreign language.

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling. “Really, now, children, that story seems a bit... excessive. Surely you, Mister Potter, and Mister Weasley came to warn Miss Granger, and found the troll bursting into the girls' toilet where you, Miss Bulstrode, were attempting to console her. The four of you protected yourselves through clever use of ordinary First Year spells, and Mister Weasley rendered the troll unconscious with his own club, employing the _Leviosa_ Charm which I believe you learnt this afternoon. Feeling grateful to Mister Weasley for his efforts, Miss Granger, you shaded the truth in order to cover up his little _faux pas_ of a few hours ago, and you are all very good friends now, and nothing more, although of course you might pair off in some fashion when you're grown. The troll, being merely knocked out, was returned alive to his own cave.”

Millicent hugged Harry and Hermione a little closer to herself. “That's not how it happened at all, sir. Harry saved me and Hermione. I'm delighted to say that I owe him a Life Debt, and I believe she owes him one as well, which is brilliant cos I can't imagine a more wonderful girl to share a bond with. As for Weasley, he was nowhere near us until some minutes after the troll was dead. We saw Professor McGonagall before we saw him.”

Hermione looked as if she'd eaten something that tasted awful. “Ronald Weasley might as well have been in London, _sir_. He might as well have been on the Moon! Harry and Millicent put themselves in danger to warn me, and then Harry, a sweet, wonderful, _gentle_ boy, killed a monster to save us. If that means I owe Harry a Life Debt I'm happy to say it, and in any case I'll love both of them forever. As for Weasley, I'll forgive him for what he said, because hating him would hurt me more than it hurt him, but I will not lie to make him look better.”

“Surely that's not how you remember it.” Dumbledore's wand was out. _He's going to cast some kind of spell on us. On my Hermione and my Millicent!_ Harry drew his own wand. He didn't know what he'd do, but he'd killed a twelve-foot troll to save his girls and he'd be damned if he'd let anyone, even the Headmaster himself, hurt them.

“Headmaster Dumbledore, you are about to make a grave mistake. I swore an oath to guide and guard the pupils of this school, but I did not swear personal allegiance to you. Even if I had done, my duty to these three brave young people would override any pledge of fealty.” To Harry's amazement, Flitwick had drawn not only his wand but a sword, a plain double-edged weapon with a very practical appearance to it, which he must have carried in some sort of expanded pocket or a sheath concealed by a Notice Me Not charm. Both were trained on Dumbledore. And when he looked at the rest of the room, his eyes went wide and he wondered for an instant if he were dreaming, because McGonagall and _Snape_ had drawn their wands on the Headmaster as well.

“Case your wand, Albus. You'll not memory charm my Lions and their lovely young friend. If I must, I'll raise my kin to protect them, and don't for an instant think you can stop me before I call up the Host. There are older magics in this country than any taught here in _Gleann na G_ _oi_ _ll,_ and older powers are ever close at hand. Your English wards have no strength against them.”

“I might owe you my life and my freedom, Albus, but I'll not give up my soul at your say so. That's Lily's son over there, much as I've tried to forget it these two months past, along with one of my own Serpents and the cleverest young Muggleborn to start Hogwarts in nineteen years. I've done dirty things in my life, too many of them, but I'm not looking on whilst you alter their memories to suit some scheme of yours, especially if it leaves two of them endangered by Life Debts they can't remember and all three confused by feelings their memories can't explain.”

Harry half-expected Dumbledore to cast some massive spell that would do something horrible to everyone in the room. But instead the Headmaster stood stock still for a long moment, and then he put away his wand. He suddenly looked much older than he had when he came into the room. “I... you're right. I was about to do a terrible thing, and I thank you all for stopping me.”

He fell to his knees. “Mister Potter, Miss Granger, and Miss Bulstrode, please forgive an old man for forgetting to put the sanctity of individual lives ahead of his abstract ideals. I wish the three of you all the best. As for Mister Weasley, I know he'll find his own way without my meddling.”

Harry looked to his girls, and they looked to him. A wordless communication passed between them, and somehow he knew what he should say, and that it should be phrased in the formal way he'd only read in books before. “We forgive you for your intended actions tonight, Professor, and we'll not speak of them to those not now present unless we have no other choice. But we cannot forget.”

“Harry speaks for me,” Millicent said.

“And for me.” There was a look in Hermione's eyes that might have made Harry shiver if it had been in anyone else's, and he knew that he wouldn't be the only one to take revenge if anyone tried to harm their family. _Is that what we are? I never knew a family could be made of two girls and a boy who aren't siblings, but I've known for a long time that_ _what I had in that house in Privet Drive wasn't a real family, so I suppose it's no surprise that a true family could have a very different shape to it_ _._ _As long as_ _it's all right with the girls,_ _and I really hope it is,_ _I'd love for us to be a family._

Dumbledore bowed his head and rose to his feet. “Thank you. That is as much as I can expect, and more than I deserve.”

“Thank you for standing up for us, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and Professor Snape,” Hermione said.

Snape inclined his head. “Thank you for reminding me of my true duties, Miss Granger, and for helping me to see that my first friend's son is standing between yourself and your bond-sister.”

Flitwick had put his sword back in whatever mysterious place he'd got it from. “It was an honour.”

McGonagall nodded regally. “I'm glad to have been of assistance.” She turned to Ron. “As for you, Mister Weasley, I'm taking no points, as a deduction of a hundred or more from my own House might require an awkward explanation, even if replaced immediately. If you've not learnt your lesson simply from what you've seen with your own two eyes, allow me to elucidate. You put Miss Granger, and Miss Bulstrode as well, into danger. You might not have intended your words to have that effect, but they did. Mister Potter, a First Year, some months younger than yourself, killed a fully grown Mountain Troll to protect them, a feat beyond many, and perhaps most, adults. Fortunately for you, both girls were unharmed and there was sufficient time for Mister Potter to calm down before you made your appearance. If matters had been otherwise, you might have gone the same way as the troll. Never tickle a sleeping dragon again, Mister Weasley. It's unlikely you'll live to get a third chance. Do you understand me?”

Ron swallowed and worked his mouth for a moment before he could get the words out. “Yes, Professor McGonagall.”

“Very good. I now lay geas on you, I who am Head of your Hogwarts House, such that you will never speak, write, or in any other way communicate these events to anyone other than your father in his role as Head of your family or your grandfather in his role as Weasley of Weasley, and that only verbally, in privacy, and if you should be specifically asked. Not even to your brothers, mother, or sister will you say or scribe a word of it. As I say it, so will it be. Do you hear me, Ronald Bilius Weasley?”

“Yes, Professor McGonagall.”

“Good. Now, then, I suppose we should get you back to the Tower. As for Mister Potter, Miss Granger, and Miss Bulstrode, I'd imagine a visit to the Hospital Wing might be in order. You might not be injured, but the Matron will want to see you to make absolutely sure, and I doubt the three of you would wish to be separated tonight. Am I correct?”

Harry looked to the girls. He didn't want to presume, but that sounded very nice to him. Millicent nodded, with a sweet little smile that made him wish they were alone so he and Hermione could kiss her. Hermione beamed at him, and he knew she wished they were alone for just the same reasons as he did. “Yes, please, Professor.”

“Severus, you and I should take them to Poppy, being their Heads of House. Filius, would you be so kind as to escort Mister Weasley back to the Tower?”

“Of course, Minerva.”

“I'll call the Head Elf, and together we'll see to the cleaning up,” Dumbledore said. “The work will do me good. Severus, I assume you'll want to render the troll down for Potions ingredients?”

“Yes, please, Albus. If you'd be so kind as to cast a stasis charm on the remains and have them moved to one of the empty storerooms, I'll see to the task as soon as I'm able.” Harry had never seen Snape smile, rather than sneer or smirk, before. He'd never really expected he would.

Flitwick turned to Snape. “Might I have a look at the wounds before you start work, Severus? I think it's worthwhile to make a closer study of what exactly Mister Potter did in the course of protecting his friends.”

“By all means, Filius. I'll wait until you're satisfied to begin with the processing. I'm not pressed for troll parts, and it should be a few days before I'll have the time in any case.”

“Professor McGonagall?” Ron said, “what should I say? When I'm back in the Tower. I know I can't talk about—” Ron's mouth worked for a moment, and Harry realised that McGonagall's geas was stopping him saying whatever he'd tried to say—“about what I saw and heard tonight, but I can't just say nothing. Everybody will want to know where Harry is. And, err, Hermione as well, of course.” Ron shivered. A moment went by before Harry realised that Ron was shivering because of him. _And because of_ _our_ _Millicent, I reckon,_ he thought, seeing the expression on his favourite Slytherin's face. He knew his own would match it.

McGonagall turned to Harry. “Am I correct in thinking, Mister Potter, that you'd prefer not to be known amongst the student body as a troll-slayer? There was a time, of course, when most Wizards and Witches had some experience as hunters and taking such a trophy would have been regarded as a mark of distinction much like a demonstration of superior skill at flying a broomstick, but those days are long gone, I'm afraid.”

Hermione snuggled even closer, and Harry got the feeling she was restraining herself from kissing him right in front of the professors and Ron. “I wish everyone could know how brave and brilliant you are, Harry, but the Professor does have a good point.”

“Aye. My great great great grandmother wore a troll-fang pin in her cloak. It was a gift from my great great great grandfather, and all the family stories say her pride in having a fiancé who killed his first troll when they were but fourteen was only matched by her pride five years later when she presented him a matching pin for his own cloak, having shot the beast with a four bore musket as it tried to break into the byre. But most folk here at Hogwarts today are too soft and they'd never understand. I don't want to hear anyone saying Hermione's and my Harry is a violent savage. And if I did, I would be forced to take strong exception to such statements.”

McGonagall nodded. “That's very well said, Miss Bulstrode. Would it be all right if we told the other pupils that the three of you were trapped in an empty classroom? You combined your talents to strengthen the door, and whilst the troll was trying to batter its way through the Staff came upon the scene. Magical exhaustion from reinforcing the door would explain why you might be spending a day or two by yourselves in the Hospital Wing. That is, if you don't mind it being known you were together?”

Harry looked to the girls again. Suddenly he was nervous. Would they really want everyone to hear that they'd been alone in a room with a boy, even if it was a classroom rather than the girls' toilets?

Hermione almost glowed, and he wondered if everyone else could see it or if it was only himself and Millicent. “I'd like nothing better, Professor. I owe Harry and Millicent my life.”

Millicent was glowing as well. “No more than I owe you and Harry mine, Hermione. I'll gladly tell it to the whole world. As long as it's all right with you, Harry?”

“Of course it is. I could never have done it without you, and I can't imagine anything better than having my name spoken with those of the two prettiest and smartest and nicest girls in Hogwarts.”

They squeezed him so close that he wondered if they'd forgotten Ron and the professors were in the room, and Millicent whispered in his ear “That means kisses just as soon as we're alone, love. Lots and lots of them from both of us.” Harry's face felt hot and he imagined it would look as red as a Weasley's hair, but he didn't care.

Ron looked as if the Hogwarts Express had hit him at full speed ahead but somehow he hadn't died, and he couldn't quite come to grips with the fact, or even understand what had happened. “Err, Harry... I'm sorry. Really sorry. I realised as soon as you'd left that I should have followed you to, to help out, but Percy caught me before I could get away, and it took me a while to persuade him we should talk to Professor McGonagall. I'm sorry for not backing you up, mate, and I'll not do it again.”

“I'll forgive you for _that_ , Ron, but Hermione is the one you really need to apologise to. And Millicent as well.”

“Bulstrode?”

Hermione snarled. “Yes, _Ronald_. You've been mean to our Millicent for as long as we've been at Hogwarts. I've heard some of the horrible rubbish you've said about her.”

“I was just joking with the lads, like. Harry was there as well, weren't you, _mate_?”

“I didn't call you on it, just as I didn't call you on what you said to Hermione, but I should have done. I'm sorry I didn't, and I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to both of them. And you're no mate of mine if you can't be polite to them, _Weasley_.”

Something in Harry's eyes must have terrified Ron, or maybe it was in Millicent's or Hermione's. _Scabbers looked something like_ _a couple of days ago_ _when that Sixth Year's cat came round_ _where we were sitting in the Common Room_ _, didn't he?_ “Look, I'm sorry, M... Miss Granger and Miss Bulstrode. I... Sorry.”

“We'll have a talk about your behaviour later, Mister Weasley. For now, go back to the Tower with Professor Flitwick.”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

As Ron and Flitwick left, Harry noticed that there was red spattered all over the walls, the sinks, and the mirrors above them. _Was it like that before? It's_ _a funny way to paint a room, even for the Wizarding World. Oh, wait,_ _i_ _t's blood, isn't it?_ _If_ _Dudley_ _were here_ _to see_ _, he'd_ _say_ _i_ _t was_ _totally_ _awesome,_ _just like something from one of his favourite videos,_ _and maybe he'd even give me a thumbs up before he remembered I was only Cousin Harry the freak and not Rambo or Arnie_ _. O_ _nce he did_ _remember_ _, of course_ _, he'd be disappointed the troll died instead of me and the gir_ _ls._ _E_ _ven if he didn't hate me, and even if he didn't think girls are just plain gross and annoying, he'd_ _look at_ _the troll_ _and realise it_ _could have been_ _his long-lost brother_ _and_ _then_ _he'd feel sorry for it_ _._ Harry didn't think he'd ever been torn between feeling queasy and wanting to laugh before.

A few minutes later, Harry and Hermione and Millicent followed McGonagall and Snape up to the Hospital Wing. Harry had been here once before, during the first week of term, when he'd had his mandatory examination. He'd still been overwhelmed with the strangeness of Hogwarts, and he'd not yet been used to sleeping in a room with four other boys whose beds would creak as they turned over in the night even if they didn't all snore in the way Ron sometimes did. His bed here was infinitely more comfortable than the pallet in the cupboard or even the beat-up old mattress the Dursleys had given him along with the smallest bedroom, but the dorm was much louder. He mostly remembered Madam Pomfrey waving her wand at him and saying a spell which caused a great deal of numbers and letters to appear on the sheet of parchment she held in her other hand.

He'd been grateful that she didn't ask him to take his clothes off, especially because some of the people waiting their turns on the other side of the privacy curtain had been girls. Neither Hermione nor Millicent had been amongst them, but Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot from Hufflepuff and Lavender Brown from Gryffindor had been in the queue. He knew they wouldn't have been able to see or hear him, any more than he'd been able to see the people who'd gone in before him or to hear a word of whatever had been said between them and the Matron, but still, the idea made him uncomfortable, for reasons he couldn't quite articulate.

He'd already been ill at ease because of the odd feelings he'd had as he sat waiting, especially when he saw Mòrag MacDougal from Ravenclaw come out from behind the curtain and Parvati Patil go in for her turn. He'd looked out the window, because he didn't want to read any more of his Potions book and he hadn't anything else to do, and suddenly he'd started wondering what was going on back there, if Madam Pomfrey had asked Parvati to take off her robes and if the Indian girl was standing there before the Healer in her uniform skirt and blouse, in her underwear, or, just maybe, in nothing but her gold necklace and bracelets, with her thick plait hanging down her spine and the end touching her bare bottom, which he'd imagined would be much the same rather pretty soft brown colour as her cheeks and her hands.

That had given him a strange tingling sensation he didn't remember ever really feeling before, and along with it a very awkward physical reaction that made him glad for robes and loose trousers. He hadn't been sure if he disliked it—it actually might have been a good feeling if only he'd been alone—but he'd been utterly certain he didn't want Madam Pomfrey to know about it. Maybe her parchment might have told her something, although he hoped not, but she hadn't said anything about it, which was good enough for him.

Now he was wondering what it would be like to be in the Hospital Wing with Hermione and Millicent, and he was getting that tingling feeling again. He wondered if girls could feel like that as well. He knew they didn't have the same body parts, of course, but he thought he remembered it being said at some point in the sex education lesson in primary school that girls did get urges like the ones boys were supposed to get. He supposed he couldn't be certain that the tingling feeling was the same thing as the “arousal” Miss Haversham had droned on about, but he suspected it might be.

He wasn't sure if he should be more embarrassed or less if Millicent and Hermione were feeling tingly, also. But in any case, he supposed it would be nice to not be alone, even if he did hope the girls wouldn't notice his reaction. It wasn't that he didn't trust them, but he didn't want to make them uncomfortable. However rotten Miss Haversham had been as a teacher, the lessons had made it clear that arousal and everything to do with it was for grown-ups and that people their age only needed to know what it was so that they'd know they shouldn't think about it until they were old enough to leave school. Presumably the girls would have had the same lessons, or maybe it was something that boys had to be taught but girls just knew, especially if they were as smart as Hermione and Millicent.

He realised that they'd climbed the last staircase, and there was only a long stretch of corridor left before they reached the Hospital Wing. He stole a quick look at the girls, and before he knew what they were doing Hermione had his left hand and Millicent had his right. Suddenly he felt much warmer, and worries about tingly feelings, or anything else, seemed far away. After all, he had the two most wonderful girls in Hogwarts by his side, and the three of them had faced a troll together and won.

Whatever else might come their way, he felt certain they could deal with it.

**Author's Note:**

> I suppose it was inevitable that sooner or later I'd write both A) a fic in which Harry realised Ron's utter prattishness on Halloween and B) a young Harry/Hermione/Millicent fic. I didn't necessarily think that they'd be the same story.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~I don't think that the description of the troll's death and injuries is appropriately described as graphic violence, but if you feel differently, feel free to tell me so politely. You might persuade me to add that warning.~~  
>  I've been persuaded. My definition of "graphic violence" was based on David Drake (Hammer's Slammers) or S.M. Stirling (Draka, Fifth Millennium, etc), with anything less graphically described counted as simply violence, but I understand something different is meant by the tags here.


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